


Beginnings

by grim_lupine



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-12
Updated: 2010-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-22 17:48:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grim_lupine/pseuds/grim_lupine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn’t out of the blue. It isn’t a ploy to stop Ray from talking, though Ray <em>does</em>, goes still and huffs out a surprised breath that tingles against Brad’s mouth. It isn’t wordless, but the only real talking is in the minute glancing of Brad’s knuckles against Ray’s throat, the way he takes Ray’s lower lip between his teeth and bites down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginnings

-

\--

It isn’t out of the blue. It isn’t a ploy to stop Ray from talking, though Ray _does_ , goes still and huffs out a surprised breath that tingles against Brad’s mouth. It isn’t wordless, but the only real talking is in the minute glancing of Brad’s knuckles against Ray’s throat, the way he takes Ray’s lower lip between his teeth and bites down.

It isn’t gentle, but it’s still strangely tender.

Brad hesitates before he closes in, just for a millisecond—just long enough to think about what might go wrong and then throw those worries aside. Ray follows him through fucking _everything_ , reads his mind like he’s got a goddamn probe in Brad’s brain. Why should Brad start doubting him now?

It is entirely against Brad’s nature to do anything half-assed. He cups Ray’s face in his hands and kisses him slow and deep, fucks into his mouth with his tongue and swallows Ray’s panting gasps and shaky breathing. It’s messy and wet, the realest thing Brad thinks he may have ever felt. Ray’s skin is hot under his fingers, and Brad wonders if, when he pulls back, he’ll see a slight flush raising up on Ray’s cheeks. He wonders if Ray’s thought about this half as much as Brad has, jerked himself raw to the thought of Brad’s mouth devouring his and driving him out of his mind. Brad wonders what Ray would do if he pushed him down to his knees right now.

Ray is anything but passive, and even as his mouth opens up under Brad’s, his fingers are scrabbling at the front of Brad’s jeans, just rubbing his cock through the fabric like he needs to touch, like he can’t even work out a button and zipper right now.

Finally, when his lungs start faintly protesting, Brad pulls away to suck in air, licks his lips and stares at Ray’s red, spit-slick and shiny mouth. Ray swallows hard, twice, and Brad reaches out to trace over the jumping muscle in his throat. This is good. Brad isn’t used to good things happening to him. Right now he’s the same kind of cold-sharp calm he gets when he’s in the middle of a warzone, taking in everything, missing nothing. In his element.

“Fuck, Brad,” Ray says, shattering the silence into tiny splinters. Brad can tell by the rise-and-fall of Ray’s chest and the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth that he’s gearing up for one of his rants; Brad can almost hear the familiar cadence of his diatribe before he even starts. “You mean to tell me we could have been fucking our way across Iraq the whole time we were there, and instead I was sneaking combat jacks to Reporter’s come-stained girlfriend? I mean, I know Marines make do and all that shit, but that’s not fucking _on_ , Brad.”

His words and his tone are as falsely indignant and provoking as ever, Ray’s standard ‘talking-just-to-hear-his-own-voice’ rhythm. His eyes, though. There’s want in them, just a touch of nervousness. Ray’s always best covered himself up with the rapid bullshitting that comes so naturally to him.

He can’t hide from Brad, though. Not what’s in his eyes.

“Ray,” Brad says quietly, reaches out and wraps his fingers around Ray’s wrist. They curl all the way around and then some, and Ray stumbles forward when Brad tugs him closer, looking like he’s waiting for something. He looks like he’s waiting for a ‘shut up, Ray’, wouldn’t be surprised if it came.

Brad smiles. He kisses Ray once on the mouth, almost chastely, then dips his head down to brush his lips against the side of Ray’s neck. Here he can feel Ray’s pulse thrumming, life flowing under his skin. Brad can taste the salty tang of sweat on the tip of his tongue and it makes his mouth water. He wants to strip Ray bare and chase that taste all over his body.

“Ray,” Brad says again, a smile in his voice. He bites the word off against Ray’s skin, and feels Ray’s body sway slightly forward in answer. “Ray, keep talking.”

Ray’s breath shudders out, quiet. A minute tell. His fingers trail up to steeple over the back of Brad’s head, a welcome weight. Brad presses a kiss to the top of Ray’s collarbone, just one kiss in the line of a thousand more to come.

\--

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